100 Moments in Time
by Mira Steel
Summary: Memories form who we are, built from many fractured moments in time. These are but a few of those moments, from the lives of those in the world in which Jak dwells. Drabbles from the 100 themes challenge.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the Jak and Daxter universe, and all that it entails.

These are short bits based on the themes from the 100 themes challenge, posted in the order I write them. Most will fall within the same continuity, if not I'll state it in the comments. Comments and critiques are appreciated.

Thanks goes to Cassandra Cassidy for beta'ing for me and generally being epic. You should all go and read her stories.

And now, on to these moments in time.

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**3. Light**

Pain. Like a string of fire, it lanced across my side. I grit my teeth as fresh wounds were jarred as I rolled away, willing it from my mind. It would be gone soon. The look of shock that swept across my opponents' face was enough to bring a tight grin to mine, as a wave of light eco momentarily swept over me. Injuries mended themselves in the blink of an eye, and as quickly as the light came, darkness replaced it. The eco gave me the boost I needed to close the distance between the two of us, a blast from my claws quickly ending the fight. Rather than watch him slump to the ground, I quickly snatched my weapon from where it had dropped. For just a moment, an emotion few saw on me danced behind my eyes, replaced by the stone-like mask that settled on my features. I was not proud of what I had become, the light could never cover over the darkness that had settled in my bones.

**83. Heal**

Crimson life stained the earth, a rapidly increasing sign that something was _wrong_. The gasping, watery sound of breathing was the second. Panic, and need to do something, _anything,_ gripped him, paralyzing him for an agonizing moment. He had seen people die, too many to count, but this was different. Never had it been someone he actually _cared_ about. Something was said, but barely heard as he _pulled,_ twisting the power that sang of healing and light, and for once trying to use it for another. _Please, let this work,_ he thought, hoped, begged. As the last curls of healing light faded, and the one he healed fell into an exhausted sleep, what he had heard made sense, and with it a growing surprise, and horror at what he had almost lost.

_Again._

"_Father?"_

**4. Dark**

It pulsed, coiling through his veins with every beat of his heart. Most times, he was able to ignore it, as naturally as breathing. The pace of running for his life, fighting until the end, protecting those around him, is enough to distract from the subtle burning. Even when the power is unleashed, a maelstrom of violet energy dancing along the length of his arms, jumping between claws that reach to rip and tear, channeling the energy in deadly waves, it leaves just as quickly with nothing but an echo whispering behind the pounding of adrenaline. Days that seem to have no end result in nights with no time for dreaming. Yet it is after the threat is vanquished, and all seem ready to return to a slower pace, to think, and remember, that the shadows seem to dance with dark intent. It is then that the whispering is able to make itself heard, and the darkness threatens to steal the last of his sanity.

**37. Eyes**

The last thing he remembered seeing was blue eyes. When he was alone, and free from the responsibilities he knew awaited him, he would allow himself to be swallowed up by the memory of two pairs of eyes as blue as the ocean, one he had watched as the light went out, the other he stubbornly held onto the hope of seeing again.

The first time he saw the eyes of the young man pulled from the desert, knocking on death's door, he had to fight to keep from recoiling in shock. That would not be appropriate, not for the man who so many looked to as their king. When he found the boy had no father, he couldn't help but cringe, thinking of his own son who, if he was still living, was most likely under the impression he had died. For what father would abandon his son?

When death came to claim him, he saw those eyes, so like his son's, fill with fear. He heard him say something, but knew it would make no difference. With what he knew to be his last breaths he made certain his son would be found. As his vision swam into darkness, he missed the flickering emotions of shock, horror, and, surprisingly, joy, that crossed that young man's, his _son's_, eco-blue eyes.

**93. Give Up**

The laugh that echoed up and down the canyon was that of a creature that had finally fallen into complete insanity. "Give up!" It shouted, gleeful in the knowledge that it was _invincible_. "You will never be able to defeat me!"

"Yeah, yeah, like we've never heard _that_ line before!" shouted something small, defiant, and safely on the shoulder of his larger and much more dangerous counterpart. "I can't even count it on all my toes an' fingers!" he declared, earning a dark chuckle that forced him to hold on tighter lest he fall from his perch.

The grin that formed on the dark elf's features was predatory. "Hey Dax, want to see if our friend here is _really_ invincible?" he practically growled as he advanced upon his opponent, who was looking less sure of the outcome by the moment. "Maybe we should see if they want to give up?"


	2. Chapter 2

Still not owning Jak and Daxter, or else there would be another game fitting the storyline coming out.

Once again thank you to Cassandra Cassidy, and on to some more moments that shaped them.

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**84. Out Cold**

Time. For once, he felt he had all the time in the world. Watching, waiting, he sat calmly beside the bed of one who had not yet awoken. Though worry would occasionally flit across his face, it quickly smoothed out with the knowledge that this one was _alive._ Asleep, yes; oblivious to all that was around him, quite true. Out like a light, but blood still flowed safely within his veins, and his breathing formed a steady rhythm which slowly lulled the one who had hoped to stay awake. Shortly, steadily, he too was out cold.

**75. Mirror**

When I see my reflection, I make a point of not looking. I don't want to see, to be reminded of what I am, who I have become. But even when I don't look, I know. I know that flinty eyes would stare, burning, _accusing,_ from my own reflection. _What have you become?_ they seem to stay, boring past the shields I have built up over the years of trying to survive in the prison, created out of desperation to protect what sense of self remained. Was it all for naught? _They'll hate you, you know. When they see you, they'll know _everything._ What you've become, the things you've done… Why would they want to have anything to do with you? You're nothing but a _monster. I can't bear to look, to see. Because when I look into the mirror, the pain of truth stares back at me.

**2. Love**

He was faking it. No one, not even someone as small as him, could get _that_ drunk _that_ fast. Then again, it was rather amazing that he wasn't emptying the contents of his stomach onto the counter in a rather colorful display of the different liquors that had been found under the counter. He was slurring, singing some song about being 'dry', and now he was trying to kiss Jak. The only thing keeping him away from the poor blonde's face was his hand, as a look of long-suffering humor crossed his face. Tess giggled, apparently completely taken by the act, as the Goodyear blimp of a man drifted close, ranting on about some mission or another he wanted the duo to go on. Daxter suddenly flopped across his arm, a silly grin on his face and a devilish twinkle in his eye. Trust the orange furball to do anything in his power to embarrass his friend.

"I love you, man!"

**4. Dark (reprise)**

The energy bubbled, mere feet below him. He ran, focusing not on the thought that he might fall in, and to his own demise, but that if it was used on the world so much more would be lost than just his life. When he used the floating cloud of light in the same way he channeled the yellow eco he had encountered before, the machine he fought exploded, sending the head in his direction. His friend, ever loyally at his side, and he shielded themselves, thinking the end was near. When he heard a dull splash, more like something falling into the thick muck of the bog, they turned around in surprise. Seeing the head, and with it their foes, sinking out of sight, they knew for certain that they had defeated the darkness.

**10. Breathe Again**

He couldn't seem to get air into his lungs. He had gotten wind of the coup just in time to find his wife and son… and to see the ever-growing pool of blood surrounding the still form of his wife. He looked into her eyes, watched as the light faded from them, burning the image into his nightmares for many sleepless nights to come. His son, his little Mar, was not there. The question of whether he had fled and found shelter with someone, or if he had already been murdered in cold blood, his small form dumped into some place where carrion eaters would render it unrecognizable within days, would plague him for weeks, months, years. Time froze as he knelt, trembling, not caring that his wife's blood stained his knees, and he carefully, painfully, closed her eyes for the last time. Unshed tears sat precariously at the edges of his eyes, as they swiftly turned from muted, horrified mourning, to a burning, murderous rage as he turned them to the one that had done the deed. At the back of his mind he wondered if he would ever be able to breathe again.

**10. Breathe Again (reprise)**

The dull throb across his midriff and the ache in his head spoke of a battle that had not gone well. A cottony, stale-tasting tongue ran across his teeth, trying to restore some form of moisture to his mouth. Eyes crinkled as he attempted to remember all that had happened, but his thoughts were dull, sluggish, and the only thing he knew for certain was that he should have died. He almost wished he had, for then he wouldn't have to live with the dull ache that had become ever present after the coup, and with it the feeling that he couldn't take in enough air, as if a weight was on his chest. Forcing his eyes open, he grimaced at the sand clinging to his lashes, making his vision hazy. Surprise, in the form of a frown, crossed his face as he realized that rather than one of the monks, the young man he had rescued from the desert was sitting beside him. The fact that he was alive, that they _both_ were alive, must have meant that the day star had been defeated, and yet he had the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. Studying the features of the sleeping figure beside him, he dredged up the last conversation he had had with him. He had been dying, of that he had been certain, for he had asked that his son be found. As he had drifted off, his eyes already closed, he had heard something, something _important_, if he could only remember…

And then, as blue eyes opened and lit up with recognition, and not a small bit of uncertainty, it came to him. In that moment, for the first time in years, he knew he would be able to breathe again.


	3. Chapter 3

Still don't own Jak and Daxter... Sadly.

Reviews are loved, if you have a moment to spare~

(Oh, and ones labeled 'reprise' are ones I'm taking a second shot at, so hopefully by the end I'll have two for each prompt, a 'positive' and a 'negative' version. Some will be continuations from the first response to the prompt, others will take a whole different look at it)

* * *

**3. Light (reprise)**

Coiling, pulsing, glowing. The cool light surrounded his form, gently easing away aches and pains he didn't even know he had. Eyes fluttered closed as a peaceful calm pushed away the darkness that so often whispered from the corners of his mind. Shadows of monsters were bleached out, bearing the promise they would not, could not harm him. Even the small companion on his shoulder was affected, an unusually serene expression crossing his face as the light swirled around him, soothing worries and cares. It faded out, coiling in upon itself within the reaches of his inner self, blending its own power with that of the darkness, balancing it, making it seem far less sinister. His eyes opened, much calmer than they had ever been since landing in this foreign place, this lost home. The pain, the _burning_ that had once been ever-present as a result of the darkness that ran through his veins, was eased away as a new power became a part of him, the light that healed down to the very marrow of his bones.

**78. Drink**

Toasting to someone's _death_ was certainly new, particularly when the ending of their life was directly related to actions _you_ had taken. Not that he regretted those actions or anything. Quite the contrary; had he not, there was a very good chance Haven would be little more than a smoldering crater. And yet, here he was, fingering a glass with a 'special vintage'. To say he was somewhat… suspicious would be to take his feelings too lightly, and would have received a barbed, sarcastic remark for your trouble. Even after everyone else had drank the blood-colored beverage, he was leery of it, though he shortly downed it after a pointed look from the daughter of the deceased. Little did he know his reservations were well founded. In the coming weeks, and with the ever-growing presence of the poison working its way through his system, burning his veins as he thought only eco could, he would find just how much he could wish he hadn't taken that drink.

**12. Insanity**

An explosion ripped through the vehicle of the racer he was tailing, the flaming wreckage flying mere feet from the top of his own car, and yet he didn't even flinch at the hot bits of metal and rubber that bounced off his skin. Heat - burning, searing - blossomed behind him as he dropped a mine with mere seconds to spare before a pair of missiles would have incinerated him. The screech of his smaller companion earned him little more than a glance, as his attention was riveted upon the road, navigating obstacles with eco-enhanced accuracy. Not for the first time, he darkly thanked the experimentation that had been conducted upon him over those torturous two years. A grin, predatory in nature, spread across his face as he picked up the pulsing orb of yellow energy, taking a mere moment to find what had formed in the fore-facing weapons mount. A whoop of excitement burst from his lips as he let loose the sparkling ball of blue energy, wondering if _this_ was what they meant when they whispered of _insanity._

**75. Mirror (reprise)**

It doesn't frighten me, not any more. When I walk past, my reflection staring back at me, I no longer flinch away from the sight. Seeing, remembering, I know who I have become. Flinty my eyes may be, but now they hold resolve, ice-like in solidarity. Silence, peaceful and calm, is all that comes from the other me I see. That monster, hissing from the shadows of my own mind, no longer has any power over me, its reaching grasp can't touch the shield of knowing, without a doubt, that those I protect, those closest to me, will always be there. Memories of my time in prison still affect me, and yet, now I am able to cope. The weight of my reflection seems to have lessened to a load I can bear to see, even to remember when the darkness of night surrounds me. Because when I look into the mirror, the calm of truth is what stares back at me.

**49. Stripes**

The king of Spargus was proud to announce that this young man was his son. In the hours and days following his near-death experience in the catacombs under Haven, he had soaked up as many of the tales of this man's - his _son's_ - adventures as he could. Everything from the encounter with a whumpbee's nest, to the attempt to reach Gol and Maia (with his startled realization that the legends from that time were _true_), to the dark years spent in prison. Upon hearing _that_ glossed-over tale, and realizing that he must have gone through so much more, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Praxis was lucky to already be in his grave. The tales of the time spent attempting to defeat the Baron made him wish futilely that he had been able to do more for the city that was once his, but he was proud that it was his son that had been able to save it. Every scar that crisscrossed the young man's form had a story, many of which he was not yet ready to tell. He was still so young, and yet his proud father knew that, when it came to being a hero, he had truly earned his stripes.

**86. Seeing Red**

It was power incarnate. It steadily pulsed through his body, solidly anchoring him to the ground. When he swung into a roundhouse kick that normally would have merely caused the creatures around him to flinch, the power lent itself to him and threw them away from him, small globules of green eco floating above their still forms. He grinned, reaching for the energy within him, feeling as steady as a mountain, as powerful as the lava that flowed from the world's heart. As it flowed from his fists to deal solid blows, it swirled around him. For a moment, in the rush of the battle, he was seeing red.

**87. Food**

The gnawing sensation in his middle only made itself apparent when he wasn't suffering at the hands of his captors, the dark substance he had always been warned about being pumped through his veins, liquid fire winding its way through him. He had enough to eat, but only just. As the months dragged on, he watched as once-toned muscles waned away to wiry, boney limbs. The safety of his dreams allowed him to revisit memories of sun-warmed beaches with handfuls of fresh, sweet fruit, crisp greens, and crystal clear waters. It was painful to wake up and realize that, rather than those he had called friends, family even, the thing he missed the most from his home was the _food._

**55. Waiting**

How long had it been? When was the last time he had felt sun on his skin, rain in his hair, the kiss of the breeze winding about him? What was it like, he wondered as he attempted to dredge up painfully faint memories, to leap from one towering spire of rock to another? Had it been days, weeks, months, or even years since he was free? His friends must have forgotten him, he was sure, or possibly preceded him in death. The one thing he hung onto like a drowning man was the shouted promise from one he could barely remember. "_Don't worry Jak! I'll save you before you know it!" _came the voice from within the recesses of his mind. It had grown faint with time, tinny as it reached across an unknown period. And yet, it brought hope to him, giving him something to focus on. As the experiments continued, bringing with them the burn of eco, he curled within his mind, hiding, waiting.

**31. Flowers**

When the chance came for them to slip away from their duties, even if only for a short while, they would gather, a small band of travelers through time, in a hut that deteriorated through the ages. They had worked to keep it from collapsing completely, while being mindful of changing as little as possible, for it was a reminder of what they had lost. Arriving there, they would sit and remember, sharing happier memories. Eventually, silence would settle like a heavy blanket over them, as each stared into space, lost in the past. Nevertheless, time would march on whether they wished it or not, and responsibilities demanded that they return to the never-ending flow. As they left, mournful of the lives that were lost, careful of the aging frame they stood in, one of their number stooped down to leave a reminder that lives once dwelled within these walls. While they went on with their lives, they left a handful of small flowers for the past.

**59. No Way Out**

He was stalking, quietly advancing on his chosen quarry. A small smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth as a chuckle attempted to force it's way through his lips. Just a few more feet, and he would be close enough. It was amazing how quiet one could be while wearing boots with steel soles, but time spent sneaking around places he really shouldn't have been really paid off. The small form inches from his fingers was peering around the corner of his hiding spot, not watching for someone approaching from behind. A full-blown grin spread across the elf's face and mirth sparked in his eyes as he grabbed hold of his smaller companion, earning a shriek of surprise as he started tickling his sides. He cackled evilly as giggles melded with protests, and the former elf realized there was no way out.


	4. Chapter 4

Aaaaand... I'm back! Man, I haven't updated this in _forever_. Eventually I'll go back and make the formatting for the previous chapters match this one. As per a suggestion over on dA, I've added when each drabble takes place. The last two haven't been beta'd yet, so they are up for changes.

Again thank you Cassandra Cassidy, my epic beta! :3

For those curious, it has taken me forever to upload these because I was working on a cosplay of Jak. Pictures are can be found on my photobucket and my dA pages: "photobucket. com / albums / i268 / Masako_Taiyo / Costuming " and "waterdragonmasako . deviantart . com"

Lemme check... nope, don't own Jak and Daxter. Can't blame me for the lack of Jak at E3.

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**18. Rainbow (+)(Uh... Mid Jak 3?)**

Blue, green, yellow, red. Bubbling, pulsing darkness. Shining, silvery light. Each was unique, the embodiment of a different power. Movement, crackling like electricity, causing one's form to seemingly ignore time itself. Healing, soothingly cool, coiling around wounds and gently easing away pains. Burning, searing and dangerous, a fiery ball of energy flung in desperation at those who would wish to do you harm. Strength, solid in the face of danger, adding its power to your own to defeat any who were too strong to defeat alone. Then the black monster came, drowning the bright color that had once swirled within the mind of the young hero. It twisted his form, his very subconscious. The light came, halting the spiral towards insanity, towards darkness. Balance came, color was returned to the corners of his mind. The rainbow marked the end of the dark downpour.

**1. Introduction (-)(Between Jak 2 and 3)**

This place was strange. Metal walls stretched towards the sky, yet the sky itself was glassy and gray with dirty-looking clouds. The two youngsters looked on in confusion and wonderment, taken completely by surprise moments later when men in strange, alien-looking suits came, taking the elven boy to another, even more frightening place. Having awakened to a small, dimly-lit cell with failing lights, much like the ones the blue sage had created, his fears only grew as time ticked by. He heard screams, elven screams, horrible sounds to one so young. Hours passed, and he curled up in the corner, his hands over his ears, afraid to even move, wishing it was all just a horrible nightmare. He hoped to wake up at home, with his friends, to days spent exploring the vast lands that surrounded Sandover. The fitful sleep he hadn't even realized he had fallen into was abruptly interrupted by a hand pulling him up by his hair. His mouth opened to cry out in pain, yet not a sound came out. Petrified eyes opened to see a sneering man inches from his face, and he flinched away, as far as he could while being held as he was. Being dragged from the cell, he fought for a moment before being clouted by one of the red-covered elves, eventually reaching a room with a wicked-looking apparatus in the center, at which point his original captor turned to him, an evil grin spreading across his face, greasier than the boy's ever would be, even in the years to come. It was only moments later that he got his first introduction to the substance that would soon run through his veins alongside his life force.

**56. Danger Ahead (+)(Jak 2 or 3; any level with lava in it)**

Oh, no. No, no no. Jak, are you listening to me? We are _not_ going that way. Hey, don't give me that look... C'mon, please? I value my fur staying on me, and _not burnt to a crisp._ Do you know what fried ottsel smells like? Not good. Really. Jak? …Fine. Just... stop looking at me like that, geeze, you'd think I killed your pet crocadog or something. Hey, ah, Jak? That... that's lava. ...We're gonna die. We're gonna-

…

Jak, I hate you. Just, so much right now. We're done, right? ...Right? Jak, this whole not-answering-your-best-friend thing is reeeeally starting to get on my nerves. That way. We are going _that wa-_

Or, you know, not. Fine. Right past the sign that says 'danger ahead' and over the piles of _crispy dead things. _...When I die, it is going to be all your fault, you know.

**81. Pen and Paper (-)(Begining of Jak 3)**

It was only a piece of paper. A single sheet, long and styled as a regal scroll. And yet, it caused so many emotions to fly. That wretched little man, smugly smirking as he read the decree written within. Those who had signed it, searching for someone to take the blame for all the destruction that had occurred, for a scapegoat to hang out to dry. Horror, as the Governess realized she could do nothing to change the outcome, powerless in her position of mock-power. Betrayal, from those who knew the hero so closely, had seen him risk his life and his sanity for this city which now threw him out to die in order to cover their own shortcomings.

Pure, unadulterated rage from the one who was written as a monster, seemingly destined to go down with the gang lord he had once worked for. As the chains were removed from his wrists and he resisted the urge to snarl at the Count, he cursed the fact his fate was tied to a mere piece of paper.

**71. Obsession (+)(TPL, Snowy Mountain)**

"Jaaaaak, I'm hungry!"

*...*

"Can we just find that stupid powercell and go already? I mean sheesh, how long do we have to wander around this place before you find it!"

*You want to find it yourself?* Jak gestured at the snow surrounding their feet, deep enough that his small companion would be up to his chin... in the shallow spots.

"...Maybe there aren't any more here. Jaaaak, I can't feel my toes!"

*I know there are more* he shivered, rubbing his hands together, *...I'm cold too, you know.*

"Yeah, well then find 'em already!"

*...Daxter, shut up. I'm trying to find them.*

"Well you're doing a looousy job of it!"

*...I'm going to smack you in three...* The fingers on his hand started counting down, the warning clearly visible.

"Alright, alright! Shutting up!"

*Thank you.*

"Man, you are freaking _obsessed."_

**94. Last Hope (+)(Mid Jak 3)**

Hope. That was something that seemed rare, the faces of the ones fighting for their lives creased with grim lines of determination. As the rogue bots attacked from one side and the Metal Heads crawled up from the sewers, the only way out blocked by the very barrier erected to protect those within the city... 'Hopes' and 'Dreams' were both synonymous and far from their minds. When they saw Jak alive, and fighting with the ferocity only he could muster, that hope was sparked anew. And as the terror of the Day Star was made known, Jak led the fight to save the day, carrying the knowledge he was the last hope of the people of Haven.

**91. Drowning (-)(Post Jak 3; AU)**

It felt like she couldn't breathe. When Sig came to her door with a grim-faced young man in tow, she couldn't help but worry. Had something happened to her husband? Hope fought to win over, for perhaps this man knew where her son was. As the boy told his story, haltingly at first, she was careful to not interrupt, even when he spoke of the child that _had_ to be her little Mar. Recognition lit her eyes when she realized he had been the one to defeat the leader of the Metal heads, which turned to confusion and not a little bit of horror when he told of her son going through the rift gate. It was his turn to be patient as the emotions danced across her face, settling in a look he could not hope to sort out when the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

Her knees were no longer stable, and the burly wastelander had the courtesy to look chagrined as he helped her sit, knowing he should have given her _some_ sort of warning. Sitting across from one another, silence settled as each took in the other. It was not long, though, before he began the last part of his tale, one too long for a boy of only 18 to have. He spoke of her husband, his father, though he had not known it at the time. The end was in sight, when the tightening of his voice warned that tragedy would strike. The Spargan king had been wounded, he told the young hero to find his son. Hope tried to worm it's way through, to say he had been healed, would walk through the door with a grin on his face.

But the sorrow in their eyes told of a different ending to the tale. As she looked at her son, her mind whirling with all that she had been told, she felt like she was drowning.

**99. Solitude (+)(Post Jak 3)**

Jak stood by the waterfall that cascaded down the side of the volcano, allowing his thoughts to wander as he listened to the roar. His communicator was off and in the vehicle a few paces away; his rambunctious friend was at his bar; the women he didn't know what to think about didn't know where he was. Freed from responsibilities for the day, he was able to contemplate the past, and the possibilities for the future. Wading into the water, excess clothes left in a haphazard pile, he reveled in the rare chance for solitude.

**17. Blood (-)(TPL & Jak 2)**

When a lurker had bitten his arm, nicking the bone and sending waves of pain radiating to his shoulder, the substance that had escaped had been bright red. The flow had quickly abated as the eco went to work, neatly sealing the wound, and it was only moments later that he was able to use that same arm to deal with the burly beast. It looked normal enough, though if one looked closer they would have seen multicolored sparks of eco leaping from it, speaking of his abilities as a channeler.

Years later, his small companion was hard-pressed not to show the horror he felt as the now violet-black liquid splattered from Jak's side. The energy was drawn back in, leaving the sticky substance a sickly gray, and the reality of what had happened to his friend was cemented firmly in his mind.


End file.
